


distance/time

by Yatzuaka



Series: 90s Movie Marathon [2]
Category: Speed (1994), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 90s Action Cheese, Alternate Universe - Human, Blood, Explicit Language, F/M, Physics - What's That?, Violence, stuff blows up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yatzuaka/pseuds/Yatzuaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Relationships that start in intense circumstances never last.</p><p>These are those circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Few Bad Days

**Author's Note:**

> I guess you could call this my Ballad of the Movie Speed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is a Lieutenant in the LAPD bomb squad. He doesn't know he's about to have the worst few days ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost completely rewritten as of 11/22/15.
> 
> [Checks purse for valuables] Nope, still don't own Marvel, or Speed. My bank account weeps.

_He watched from within as the terrified passengers tried to claw their way out of the elevator. He shouldn't be enjoying it, but he was. He had given people everything, and what had that gotten him? Nothing. His fucking thumb blown off, and a shitty severance package. "So sorry about your hand."_

_Well, that was going to change today._

* * *

Loki was going on about four hours of sleep, three shots of espresso and a protein bar. He still cleared the stairs in no time flat.

"What cha got there, Jack, my boy?" His partner, his friend, Phil Coulson, was sweating and out of breath, but he'd made better time up 19 floors than Loki had thought he could manage. It seemed like it took a lot out of him, because he just stood there breathing heavily and clutching his side.

"Pop quiz, hot shot," Coulson wheezed from his spot leaned against the door to the stairs. "A civilian has been taken hostage, you have no clear shot, and there's a gun on a hair trigger pressed against her temple. What do you do?"

Coulson seemed altogether too pleased with his hypothetical scenario, when, honestly, the answer was simple:

"Shoot the hostage."

Coulson looked at him incredulously, obviously stunned by Loki's incredibly dispassionate, almost Spock-like display of logic. He didn't seem the least impressed, so Loki hurried to add, "Not anywhere important, man. Jeez. Somewhere fleshy. Thigh, maybe?"

"Femoral artery, dude."

Loki had just finished unscrewing the access panel so he motioned for Phil to take a look, instead of pointing out that he held several LAPD marksmanship records. The smaller man hemmed and hawed, scratched the stubble on his chin as he regarded the undercarriage of the elevator. 

"Well, what is your assessment of the situation?" Phil Coulson was only ten years older than Loki was, but sometimes he acted like he was a wizened, old, kung fu master. Like Loki hadn't already dismantled countless IEDs with snipers looking to pick him off, like he hadn't almost been blown up more than a half a dozen times, like Loki was some sort of noob.

Sometimes it pissed him off, but then he remembered: he's in L.A. now. Paradise compared to his overseas deployment. But he was angling for that promotion, and part of that was the on-the-job testing, no matter how ridiculous it made him feel.

Besides, it's not every day someone plants a bomb in a busy, downtown Los Angeles office building. It's not fun, the thought that there's every chance that he'd blow himself up along with all those passengers, but, perversely, it kinda, sort of was. 

Adrenaline was a rush in his veins, and his mind was crystal clear, as he puzzled out the mass of explosives and wires rigged to the brakes of the elevator. The answer Coulson was looking for was obvious, and Loki rattled it off effortlessly, as he chomped on his nicotine gum. There was more than one bomb, and the second one, cleverly hidden behind some metal plating, was too far away to reach from any angle. That one would explode in 9 minutes, according to the gold watch it was hooked up to.

"He's gonna drop 'em no matter if the higher ups give up the cash," Loki whispered and looked at Coulson. He was absolutely certain that everyone in that elevator was going to eat it, if they didn't do something. Coulson nodded and looked troubled.

"Here's where you might pass the test, Jack. A crazy terrorist has rigged a bomb on elevator to blow, and there's no stopping it. What do you do?"

Loki thought back to when they had screeched up to the lobby entrance, and he'd looked at the building "We do what Kirk did to beat the Kobayashi Maru. Let's change some parameters. Come on, we gotta get to the roof."

He sprinted towards the stairwell, and ran, flat-out, up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time, until he slammed into the door to the roof, and used his picks to open it.

There was no freaking way the little cable lift that raised and lowered the window-washer's scaffolding was rated to the weight of entire elevator, but it didn't need to hold for long. Just long enough to get the eight people inside to safety. Phil looked like he might throw up, but to his credit, he kept it together enough to deride the only plan either had come up with.

The hatch to the elevator was locked, but it was just a shitty bicycle lock, thankfully, so Loki used his heel and kicked down until it popped.

Phil was already there with the cable, "Come on, we've got less than 5 minutes."

Loki took the cable, climbed in the hatch, and hit Coulson up on the radio. "Let 'er rip."

In short order, he was hanging on to the cable, sailing down towards the only elevator not at ground level. He clicked the radio on again, "And stop! Thanks, man. Run back down to the twentieth floor and be ready to breach the doors on my mark."

Feeling like a badass, he swung over to the elevator and tried to reassure the people inside, who started yelling when they heard him banging around on the top. It seemed like a futile attempt, a hail Mary, to tie the cable to the clamp that was attached to the counter weight, but he only needed a minute or so to get everyone off.

He unscrewed the access panel and stuck his shield inside, "LAPD. I need you to step back and be real quiet." Just before he jumped, he toggled his radio, "You in position, Coulson?"

He waited for the radio to squawk, and the expected, "Affirmative."

"Ok then. 3, 2, Mark," Loki twisted his ankle landing, but there wasn't time to fuck around, so he pushed everyone out of the way and used his crowbar to get the door open. Two of the women got out before the first bomb went off. The freefall, the instant before the cable caught and held, was terrifying.

The deafening clanging and squealing as the elevator stopped, however, was possibly the sweetest moment of his life. The car shuddered and dropped a few feet as the cable or it's mooring gave way. More passengers had leapt from the elevator while his attention was elsewhere, but no one got sliced in half, so that was good. There was only one passenger left, but she was too panicked to move. The elevator dropped another foot, and while Loki certainly sympathized with her, he didn't want to die. 

He leaned over and grabbed her hand, pulled her close and grabbed Coulson's arm and levered himself out clutching the frozen blonde. No sooner than he had cleared the doors, did the elevator fall away, squeaky, clanging, and then, an explosion as the timed bomb went off. 

Other cops swarmed up the stairs and took control of the scene, much to Loki's relief. "He blew early," Loki said as he slid down a wall to sit next to his superior officer.

"Common problem among middle aged men. Or so I hear," Phil grinned at him.

"I'm being serious, man. He knew. He knew we breached the elevator. How?"

"I dunno, WiFi camera?"

"But we have signal scramblers up - he shouldn't have been able to get a signal much less send one. Why didn't we realize this earlier?"

Coulson looked at Loki, before toggling his radio mic, "Pegs? We got any movement in any of the service elevators?"

Static flared briefly before she answered, "Affirmative, sir, service elevator 9 is descending, but there doesn't appear to be anyone in it, or the stairwells it opens on."

The times that Coulson made a leap of logic, and Loki could guess his thought process, based on an offhand remark or look, made their time together worth it. Made them an excellent partnership in the field. No matter how tired they were, they got to their feet and pounded down hallways and stairs.

Both of them were out of breath by the time they got to the entrance to the parking structure. It happened so fast that Loki wasn't sure how it actually happened, but Phil was held in front of a white male, about 5'8", 190lbs, white hair, blue eyes. 

The man was clearly angry, spittle gathering at the corners of his mouth, as he held up a device that was clearly a detonator of some sort. "Back the fuck up, kid", he growled and waved the detonator in front of Coulson's too calm face. Phil looked at Loki, and tried to get a breath despite the hand wrapped around his neck. He squeaked the words, "Pop quiz."

 _Oh Jesus_. Loki locked eyes with Coulson, _Phil_ , who fed him on holidays and made his life hell most days - and shot him in the thigh.

* * *

He didn't want to go up on that stage, he didn't need the commendation, especially not for shooting his friend in the thigh, but one didn't decline an invitation masquerading as a order from the Commissioner. 

"Loki 'Jack' Odinsson," and _fuck, shit, son of a bitch_ he damned well asked them not to use his real name, but he plastered on a smile and got up to accept the new medal, a plaque and a handshake from a guy he wasn't especially fond of, the Police Commissioner, Nick Fury. He knew from the too-firm handshake and politely neutral politicians smile that the name thing had been deliberate. _Ass_.

He could hear Phil, that little asshole, snickering, and also that a murmur ran through the crowd. The ceremony was being broadcast on a local public access channel, but as soon as his back was turned to the camera, Loki looked right at his _friend_  and used his middle finger to wipe along his eyebrow.

Coulson lowered his eyelids fractionally and pursed his lips at Loki, before their captain nudged him in the back he went back to standing at as close perfect parade rest as he could on crutches.

As Loki joined the rest of the cops back in line, he couldn't help but notice all the smirking, stifled grins of his colleagues.

He'd never hear the end of this. 

* * *

Last night the squad drank far, far too much tequila, all of them. Loki's intention when he went to the bar to meet up with his coworkers was to have a beer or two, and go home. Good intentions kinda went out the window when Captain Rogers handed him a shot glass, and poured him a two fingers of really exceptionally bad tequila from a bottle with no label. And then another and another, until finally, he'd lost count.

The last thing he remembered was Phil standing up, but leaning heavily against him, and raising his glass in a toast. A horrifying, awful toast.

" _Let's hear it for this guy! This guy right here with the stupid fucking name, and by the way! My god, your parents must've hated your ass to saddle you with that name, dude. You know that right? You might wanna consider a chat with the shrink at the precinct. I'm just sayin'. So yeah, everyone, raise your glasses for this guy, the one who shot me in the leg two and half weeks ago. Two inches up and to the left, and we'd be having a different conversation here, but! He didn't, so he gets a medal and a toast! Thanks for leaving me fully functional, man. Cheers!_ "

Loki was quite sure that going in today was not going to be enjoyable, but he sucked it up, and hoofed it a few blocks, powering through his hangover with exercise and a big bottle of water. 

At least he'd had enough sense to leave his truck at the bar.

Thankfully, his favorite coffee shop wasn't too far from the bar, so Loki's morning routine was hardly disrupted by the unscheduled inconvenience. He was sweating profusely and suspected he might still smell of that noxious tequila, so he'd take the opportunity to blot off in the men's room before heading out.

He greeted the regulars, most of whom ribbed him about his name, and he had to laugh, because who actually watched local public access tv? He placed his order and paid, because he wasn't the type of cop who expected freebies because of his profession. After answering some questions about the incident, he wandered into the bathroom to clean up while his order was being made.

A chorus of _Bye Loki_ 's followed him after he grabbed his coffee and egg sandwich off the counter and headed for the exit. He held open the door for Bill the bus driver, and was still smiling as he walked with Bill partway down the street. 

Loki was unlocking his car when the bomb went off. He felt the shock wave and a lick of heat across his back, but all that seemed to be the matter was the ringing in his ears.

He wasn't a stranger to running towards the remnants of a blast, arm lifted to protect his face from the worst of the heat, he'd spent too much time in war zones for that, but it wasn't supposed to happen in his neighborhood - it wasn't supposed to be a nice, old man he'd had breakfast with for the last three years burning in the driver's seat.

* * *

_He watched the blast from his car, which he'd parked just down the street, a place where he had a perfect view and opportunity for a quick and unnoticed getaway. He almost smiled as he made a phone call._

_The idiot who'd gotten in his way a few days ago, the one who'd ruined the plan, a perfect plan he'd been planning for 2 years, stalked over to the bank of payphones._

_"Whaddaya think, Jack? You think that if you pick up all of the bus drivers teeth, they'll give you another medal?"_

_He tried to keep calm, but really, that fucking Neanderthal had ruined what was his life's work._

Why didn't you just come after me? _Jack asked, and that name was yet more unnecessary fakery, since the kids real name had been broadcast just last night, making it very easy to find out all sorts of things about him. Easy for a man like him, with his exceptional skills, even in just a few hours. He knew all about Loki 'Jack' Odinsson now. His parents, his hometown, had peeked at his school records, looked into his military career, and everything after with just a few clicks._

_He laughed, "You don't get it, do you? This isn't about you, it's about me. Money owed me. 3.7 million dollars. It's my nest egg. Jack, at my age you gotta plan ahead. And you're going to help me get it."_

_He paused for effect, but the kid just wouldn't shut up and be respectful of his elders, so he just talked on, "Pop quiz, hotshot, there's a bomb on a bus. Once the bus reaches 50 mph, the bomb is armed. If it drops below fifty, it blows up. If you try to evacuate the passengers, the bus explodes. In fact, why don't we just say you do anything but get me my money, the bus goes ka-plooey. What do you do, Jack? Or should I call you Loki? Hmm? So. I'm waiting. What do you do?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Annie was my first ship way back in the day. I loved those two. Here's to them.  
> I'd love to hear from you! Anything in particular I should touch on, in your opinion?


	2. Goddamned Public Transportation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's running late, but should she be glad she made it to the bus on time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you came straight to this chapter, I have done some hefty rewrites to the previous chapter you might want to read first.

The judge hadn't been even a little understanding about the fracas on the highway. What was she supposed to have done? Been late for work? Not followed the ambulance through traffic? 

The answer to those last two questions was a resounding Yes!  _Fucker_.

Which, hindsight being 20/20 and all, she probably shouldn't have said while she was still at the podium trying unsuccessfully to plead her case. 

Darcy Lewis: license suspended 90 days, plus traffic school and, oh yeah, here, pay this mountain of fines. 

Fucker.

Fucking fucker.

So, yup, life was made just a little bit more difficult, just a little more disgusting, because she's always running just a little late. Not that her date with justice had cured her of that, oh no. It's just now being late meant actual running, rather than running red lights and speeding "recklessly".

Her bag slammed into her hip as she ran flat out for the bus that was starting to pull away from her stop. With a burst of speed that had coffee sloshing out of her cup to trickle burning hot liquid down her fingers and hand, with smoke stinging her eyes from the cigarette dangling from her lips, she slammed the side of the bus with the flat of her palm a couple of times as it started to pull away. "Sam! Sam! Come on, man!" 

The bus stopped, and the door squealed open as Darcy hurried to get on. "Nuh uh," the bus driver, Sam, said with a wag of his finger. With a sigh Darcy chucked the half smoked cigarette into a garbage can after rubbing it out on the sole of her shoe. "When you gonna stop that nasty habit, Dee? Don't you know everybody else in this godforsaken city has quit already?"

"Oh, you know," Darcy said as she swiped her monthly fare card, "About never? Somewhere around then."

Sam tsked as he shut the door behind her, "Don't you spit on my bus, Darcy. One of these days I might not stop for you, not with that attitude."

"You're too good to me, Sam, too good to be that petty," she retorted as she slung herself into an empty bench. She popped a piece of gum into her mouth before pulling out her kindle and settling in for her hour plus commute. Of course, little things like ear buds and reading material wasn't a deterrent for the tourist in the seat behind her - why should it be? He hung his hands over the seat back and started yammering to her about something, and Darcy just didn't have it in her to be polite. 

A quick maneuver had her gum wrapped around her index finger, and she waved it in rude tourist's face, "There's gum on my seat! _Gum_!" and moved to a different bench. Thank god for a fellow woman who wanted to read, and had no interest in trying to peer down her top.

"Sorry," Darcy said as she slid into the empty seat next to grey haired Gloria, who smiled in commiseration momentarily before going back to her book. 

As the bus accelerated from her stop into traffic, more banging came from the back of the bus. Darcy ignored it, feeling slightly bad for the poor soul who'd run afoul of Sam's _I ain't stopping in the street_ rule. 

Used to the movements of the bus, Darcy braced herself slightly as Sam braked for a light. People started turning around, glancing back towards some sort of commotion. She pulled out an ear bud just as more banging started up again. Startled, she craned her neck to look out the windows. Some dude in flannel was running flat out after the bus, while Sam muttered about crazy people who should just suck it up and wait for the next bus. With an unexpected burst of speed, the bus lumbered up the onramp and left the weirdo standing in traffic.

Since the show was over, Darcy toggled the volume in her ear buds up a skosh and settled in for the rest of the ride. They were still going relatively slowly, but as they got further away from the onramp, they picked up speed. Her book was rather engaging, so she didn't really notice at first how her fellow passengers had again started to press up against the windows and talk amongst themselves.

When Gloria clutched her cross, and started murmuring prayers, Darcy finally looked up and realized what was going on. Captain Flannel was in a Jag, a really sleek convertible model that cost about four years worth of her annual salary, standing in the passenger seat, waving his arms and screaming at Sam. The driver of the Jag had dread locs that were whipping in the wind as he tried to maneuver the car around traffic, while still keeping them near the front of the bus.

Darcy gulped down the rest of her coffee before she got up and carefully made her way to the front of the bus. She had just grabbed the handlebar mounted to the divider behind the drivers seat when she heard Sam gasp and start cursing louder than he usually did. She looked at Captain Flannel and the piece of paper he'd been holding flew out of his hands and plastered itself to the windshield for just long enough for Darcy to read it. 

_THERE'S A BOMB ON YOUR BUS_

_Holy shit - she was going to be late for work_ , was her first thought, followed closely by, _holy shit - she might die._ "Pull over, Sam," Darcy urged, and put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

Sam decelerated, putting the blinker on as he prepared to try to ease them across the lanes of traffic, but that made the guy in the Jag frantically shake his head and make motions that Sam shouldn't do that. Captain Flannel looked down at his driver briefly. He climbed over the seat to wedge himself in the small space behind the drivers seat. At the same time, the car swerved to the right and slowed down to pull next to the bus's door.

Darcy leaned forward and said softly, "I'm not so sure you should let him in, Sam."

"He's got a badge, Dee, and you saw what that note said, right? And hey, get your ass behind the yellow line, girl," Sam smiled tightly and flicked a couple of switches on his complicated dashboard. "I'm gonna need you to engage the override," he said, pointing to the door, "Quick, that button at the top there."

Time did that weird thing where it slowed down to a crawl, even though she knew that the events happened quickly, as the first rush of adrenaline hit her bloodstream. She heard clearly the protests of the other passengers, that she shouldn't touch that, even as Sam yelled for everyone to quiet the fuck down. The button was covered in grease and grime, and her finger slid across the surface as she pushed it, leaving a semi clean streak. 

The doors slammed open and air burst through, pushing her back as the people behind her started getting really loud, screaming, really. The sound faded away as the crazy man leapt from the back of that beautiful car that was swerving closer, and landed with a thump like a bowling ball being dropped, halfway through the door. His legs were hanging outside, construction boots bouncing against the pavement as he struggled to pull himself inside. Belatedly, Darcy stepped forward, grabbed his belt and yanked as hard as she could.

Somehow, he ended up on top of her, sweaty but smiling like a lunatic. "Thanks," he said and pushed himself to his feet, before holding out a hand. She was lifted easily to her feet the instant their palms met. The rush and howl of the wind was gone, leaving only the cacophony of voices and rumble of the engine. Captain Flannel leaned forward to talk to Sam, something she couldn't make out, but whatever he'd said made Sam call for Jesus. The bus jerked to the left, narrowly avoiding barreling into a slower car.

Darcy barely caught herself, and fell awkwardly on the bench reserved for the disabled. As she looked out the window, she saw the Jag try to avoid that same slow mini van, which had changed lanes abruptly, and crash right into the offramp barrier. A plume of water shot straight up in the air, and all she could think was _that poor car_.

A loud voice cut through the chatter, "I'm LAPD Lt Jack Odinsson, and I am not here for -," a shot rang out, and time sped back up, faster than she could process.

The sketchy little blond kid, who usually was too twitchy to stay in one seat for long, was being wrestled to the floor by the giant construction worker and the tourist. Jack pushed them out of the way, picked up the skinny boy up by his pants and his short collar, carried him up the stairs to the back of the bus, and cuffed him to the overhead bar. Gloria was praying even louder, while Mrs Chin pointed a tremulous finger towards the front of the bus.

Sometimes, there comes a point in one's life where action must come before thought. She could hear Captain Flannel back there, talking loudly, but this took priority. "I need help up here!" _Oh. God. Don't think about it, just keep pressing down._ "Keep it together, Sam, you're going to be fine, just keep it together, just for a little longer," Darcy said with far more calm and confidence than she felt.

The giant bounded over when he saw the blood leaking down her elbows. She couldn't think about that right now, or the sticky-slick texture running between her fingers might make her throw up. Huge construction worker shrugged off his shirt, "Lucky it's before work," he remarked, and wedged his folded shirt under Darcy's hands. 

Jack pushed himself to the very front of the bus, grabbed the steering wheel, and told her that he would need her to slide into the seat as soon as they got the driver out of the seat. "Sam, his name is Sam."

There were more passengers crowding around her, and someone pressed their hands over hers. "You ready?" Jack asked after she tugged her hands free, but Darcy couldn't speak over the bile in her throat, so she just nodded. "Ok then, on three, everyone. One, two, three." Sam was lifted out of the drivers seat and the bus slowed down from sixty-five quickly. Darcy slid into the seat, looked under the dash to make sure about the pedal configuration and pushed what she hoped was the gas. The speedometer stopped its sickening drop and leveled out at around 56 mph.

Jack let go of the wheel after she got settled in, and leaned in close, "You got this?"

Darcy looked at him like he was fucking nuts, because it was definitely a little late for that question, "Yeah, dude. It's just like driving a really big Miata."

He grinned, thus proving, at least in her book, that he absolutely had a couple of screws loose, "Make sure to keep it above fifty." His expression grew serious, "It's life or death, ma'am. Stay above fifty."

Jack stood, and faced the passengers, "Ok, let's do this again without anyone getting shot. My name is Jack Odinsson and I'm a Lieutenant in the LAPD bomb squad. I don't care about anything you might have done because I am not here for you.

I'm here because there's a bomb on this bus." The noise level in the back erupted, and Jack tried to shout to be heard, but it wasn't working.

Darcy grabbed the mic, and switched it on, " _I need everyone to just shut the fuck up and listen!_ " Feedback screeched through the speakers after she yelled. After that? Sweet, sweet silence.

Crazy Jack picked up right where he left off, "If our speed drops below fifty, the bus explodes. If anyone tries to exit the bus, it will explode. I know you all are probably freaking out right now, and that's normal, but I really need everyone to be calm and quiet, so I can handle this situation. I'm trained for it, and have the support of the best squad in the country. Just stay calm and we'll all get through this together." He turned around, "Thanks, ma'am."

She glanced over, and he was digging into one of his many cargo pockets, "Darcy."

He looked up as he pulled out his phone, "What?"

She managed a smile, because he looked so frustrated as he glared at his bent, useless phone, "My name. Darcy. Not ma'am."

"Oh, well then, Darcy, do you happen to have a cell I can use? Mine didn't survive entry."

Her purse was somehow still slung over her shoulder, "Sure, it's in my purse. Somewhere. Here take it, I don't want to let go of the wheel for long enough to root around for it." Darcy unclenched her hand for just long enough for Jack to slide the strap free. 

"There's nothing in here that's gonna poke or stab me, right?" He sounded dubious about sticking his hand in her purse, which was understandable considering all the junk in there. 

"No. Wuss. But I should probably mention that my license is suspended," she glanced over at him.

"For what?"

"Speeding."


	3. Say What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki attempts to resolve the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back, people!

The dark-haired woman who'd taken over driving, Darcy, was actually doing better than some of the people he'd served with in far less stressful situations. She even managed a crooked little grin after her confession, and despite their relatively dire situation, Loki couldn't help but shake his head and laugh.

His levity evaporated rather quickly, as he recalled that he still needed to brief his captain. He frowned at her grumpy cat lock screen. "Square, around the edges, starting from bottom left corner going up," she said, when she noticed his consternation over her phone.

"Thanks," as Loki glanced over her, he realized her hands, and up her forearms, were crusty with blood.

She'd shoved the arms of her sweatshirt up and out of the way, but the front was pretty well destroyed. Uncertain whether she'd appreciate an offer to help her remove it, he decided to leave well enough alone.

After sweeping his finger around in the prescribed pattern, Loki dialed the station and wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder. While he waited for the call to connect, he asked the lady holding Sam-the-busdriver's head on her lap for a wad of baby wipes from the enormous package she'd pulled out of her diaper bag/ purse. She grudgingly obliged when she realized that they weren't for him. Obviously not a fan of police, or maybe just him. 

Finally the call connected, "Get me through to Captain Rogers, _right away_ , tell him one of his lieutenants is on the bus with the bomb."

He rolled his eyes when the desk sergeant asked who, "Me. Lt Jack Odinsson," and he rattled off his badge number. While he waited on hold, he handed Darcy the wipes. She mouthed a _thank you_ , and tried her best to scrub herself and the wheel while keeping one hand for driving. He knelt down next to her leg, grabbed one of the wet naps and started scrubbing her right arm and hand.

He was awkwardly reaching behind her to get at her left arm when he heard the Captain's voice. "Sir? Yes, you heard right. I'm on the bus. Is backup on the way?" Loki looked up at Darcy's startled squeak, saw the wall of stopping cars they were rapidly catching up to, cursed the traffic gods briefly before he said, "Quick! Take the exit!"

Leaning forward to grab the wheel, he gritted his teeth and pushed the steering wheel up to help with the turn he really hoped they would be able to make. He found himself flung against the side window as the bus careened around the curve, taking out dozens of side mirrors as they sped along. He kept his eyes glued to the speedometer, breath held as the needle plunged down. _75, 72, 69, 64, 61, 59_...

The phone had clattered to the floor at some point, but he didn't care right then, he just wanted to live through this merge into traffic. He echoed silently Darcy's frantic repetition of _oh shit, oh god_ as they shot around the last car with a final smash of another lost mirror. He saw her scrunch her face and close her eyes tightly as they practically blasted like a cannon ball out onto the residential road. Miraculously they didn't hit anyone, and the bus slowly righted itself as they accelerated through the unfamiliar, but relatively quiet neighborhood.

"It's under my left foot," Darcy said, bringing him back to himself, "can you grab it or should I try to kick it into the aisle?"

He'd really lucked out in the driver department, and he didn't want to upset her carelessly by getting all up in her space. "No, I think I can get it from here if you don't mind my face near your thigh?"

She pulled her skirt down, making sure it was tucked tightly under her leg as far down as it would go, nodded and stared resolutely through the windshield. He tried his best not to touch her more than necessary, but he couldn't help but notice how she flinched when he bumped into her.

The phone was still connected; he heard Captain Rogers' yelling quite clearly as soon as the phone neared his face. He squirmed out from behind the drivers seat, and let himself fall into the bench directly behind the divider.

"Sorry about that, Cap, had to divert away from traffic on the highway." He described their newly adjusted current location and the demands of the bomber. How it was the same man from their office building incident.

Cap swore ripely, an unusual occurrence, and Loki couldn't help himself when he said disapprovingly, "Language." He tacked on a belated _Sir_ when the silence on the other end became deafening.

"What wit, what timing. Truly, I'm in awe," Captain Rogers finally said in that flat monotone that sent smarter people running for cover. 

"Sorry, sir," but not really, and they both knew it. "It just slipped out."

"Save it for someone who might believe you. Onto more relevant matters, you'll be getting a convoy, full lights and sirens to flank and block as needed while you're being escorted to the new, unopened freeway. In the meantime, I just received word that our man contacted us, so negotiations between us have started and this new information will surely help. Sit tight, Odinsson, and try to keep everyone calm while I organize things from here before heading into the field. Anything else to report?"

"Yeah, the bus driver, Sam, has been shot, he's bleeding pretty heavily. One of the passengers, Darcy, took over," he pitched his voice as a question to her, and he relayed her last name as Lewis after she responded. "Can you do anything about that? Get medical supplies or something? Soon? He's been bandaged with diapers and shirts, but he needs real help."

"Jesus, I don't even want to know. I trust the situation is now under control?" Rogers didn't even wait for a response before continuing, "The news has been relayed to the negotiator. Just keep it together for ten or fifteen minutes and you'll have us right there. I'm going to transfer you to Coulson for a few more questions."

Phil answered the phone with a "What's up, Loke-ster?" and why, oh, why had he thought that he might get a reprieve from shitty plays on his name while he was dealing with his current situation. Loki bit out, "Spare me, please, and focus on the problem at hand."

Loki could hear the grin in his partner voice, "Okeedokee, Loki. Have you gotten a look at the bomb yet?"

"I'm kinda on. _A. Bus. Coulson_. A bus going fifty-five miles an hour. I can't get under it to see anything right now. Ring a bell?"

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

The lady with the wipes waved at him, and motioned him over. "Hang on a sec, Coulson."

"Maintence hatch. On the floor, underneath you, dude," Sam wheezed, straining to make his voice heard over the steady rumble of the engine.

Loki glanced down and saw the seams in the floor, the notches that would fit a pry bar or large screwdriver. "Who has tools, anything I can use to get this up?" he asked, looking around at the passengers.

The big guy who'd helped with Sam slid a sturdy backpack out from under his seat, "I do." His fingers looked huge as he grabbed the tiny tab, slid open the zipper and dug into the clanking contents.

In short order, a large flat head screwdriver was being wedged under the catches and the hatch was being lifted out of the way. Loki handed over the phone to an obvious tourist with bad hair and a cheap suit worn over a very bad, red Hawaiian shirt,  "Repeat what I say exactly. Think you can do that?" When the tourist nodded, Loki turned to the giant, "Gigantor, I'm going to need you to grab a hold of my feet and my belt, just, you know, keep me from falling. Ok?"

"It's Luke," the big dude said, clearly a bit put out by the nickname.

"Whatever you say, big guy."

For a second the enormous man looked like he'd pop Loki in the kisser, but he got in position, legs planted firmly and a carefully watchful expression on his face. Loki was already on his stomach psyching himself up for the next bit. "Seriously, it's Luke," the giant said as he grabbed Loki's feet.

"I'll call you whatever you want, as long as you don't drop me," Loki responded as he lowered his face into the hole. The road was a dizzying presence below, and he felt the adrenaline rush as he let himself sink closer to it. He longed for a smoke, really desperately needed a cigarette, but he chewed his gum violently instead. If breaking off his engagement didn't make him pick it up again, he'd get through this, too, without sweet, sweet nicotine.

In a carefully detached manner, he relayed the details of the device. The tourist relayed a few questions from Coulson, and Loki answered as with as much detail as he could discern. It didn't exactly surprise him that the bomb was constructed in a manner sufficiently convoluted that attempting to disarm it in the present circumstance would absolutely result in failure, but he'd been hopeful, so damned optimistic that he'd be able to make some headway at least.

After Luke hauled him up, Loki snatched the phone back from the tourist, who's name he neither knew nor cared about, and continued his conversation with his Coulson. His friend, mentor told him to sit tight, the gold watch, cheap gold and something that retirees got, was not especially accurate, but it was a clue. Hopefully, in hubris, the bomber had left them something that would lead back to him. 

Coulson whooped on the other end of the phone as something in his cross reference searches finally appeared to match someone promising. "Jack, we got a real lead on this scumbag! Just sit tight, wait for Cap and we'll get you out of there before you know it."

Loki had a sense that it was too easy, and was not at all sure whatever Coulson found would lead to anything good. It was just a gut feeling, nothing he could articulate so he grunted an approximation of an enthusiastic response. Coulson transferred him back to Cap's SWAT team, who were already in the truck on their way to intercept them.

Romanov had specific directions to the on ramp for them to get to the still under construction highway. She sounded apologetic when she announced that they had already missed the easy route there. There was obviously no way to pull a 55mph U turn, and there was still a lot of traffic, so rerouting back wasn't an option, either. Then she just stopped talking for a moment, and he knew that he really didn't want to hear the next part. 

She sighed, "Jack, you're going to have to take an ugly turn."

"How ugly?" He saw Darcy's head swivel and a concerned expression on her face. He tried to focus on the words coming out of Romanovs mouth.

"Ugly. I've run it through my head and I don't know if you'll make it. But it's the only way to guarantee the safety of the passengers and the public. You're going to hit some nasty traffic sooner rather than later."

"Jack? What's going on?" Darcy whispered urgently, worry lacing the words.

Loki held up a finger, trying to concentrate, and seconds after he'd glanced away, Darcy shrieked and jerked the wheel so quickly he lost his footing and had to grab the bar mounted to the dashboard to stop himself from falling. He looked out the windshield, saw a black blur smack the corner of the bus. As the bus groaned and shuddered, Darcy screamed, horror and anguish clear in her voice. 

Looking in the rearview mirror, he saw cans spilling out of the crumpled baby carriage and the woman who'd been pushing it cursing and shaking her fist at the bus. Darcy was freaking out, understandably, repeating, "Oh my god, I killed a baby," until Loki took her hand and told it was cans, just cans. She looked shattered, but there was a determination there, as well, like she knew she couldn't break down just yet.

Yanking her hand free from his grip, she scrubbed it down her face, the other still white-knuckling the steering wheel as she asked him if he was sure. She was shaking and pale, and in any other circumstance he'd take over driving, but he needed to be able to focus on the main part of their problem, namely the bomb.

"You ok?"

Darcy clenched her jaw, the muscle bunching briefly, as she inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, "You're sure about the cans?" 

He almost nodded, but she was staring resolutely ahead, "Yeah. Absolutely."

Her shoulders drooped in apparent relief, but she marshalled herself quickly, "What did you mean by 'How ugly'?"

"We gotta make a turn coming up here in a few minutes. It's going to be a tight turn. Not sure how tight, or even..." He felt his temper rising, looked quickly behind him, at the bus load of people who were counting on him, and Darcy, too, to save them. There sure were a lot of them. "We're going to tip over. Unless -," he turned around, "Everybody move to the right side of the bus. Now!" He ignored the questions, and reiterated his order, as satisfied as he could be that they obeyed relatively quickly.

Loki saw the intersection they were meant to turn at, blocked off by cop cars with flashing lights and their sirens going full blast. Darcy looked up at him, but it was just for a second. He got into position next to her, grabbing hold of the steering wheel, and then the turn was right there. "Everyone stay calm! And hang on!"

Darcy turned the lumbering beast, propping a leg against the dashboard for additional leverage. Ignoring the length of thigh she revealed, he grabbed her hand and helped her pull, even as the bus groaned and tilted, two wheels lifting off the road. 

The force of gravity that they fought against finally let go as the road straightened out. The bus dropped to its four wheels with a bang that damn near deafened him and a shower of sparks. The onramp to the freeway was right there, and as they clambered up the incline with a roar of an aging and abused diesel engine, Loki felt profoundly relieved. He shared a look with Darcy as the passengers whooped and shouted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what has two thumbs and watched Jessica Jones over the holiday?

**Author's Note:**

> I can't resist a L&O reference.


End file.
